Love's Thesis
by LeeLoop
Summary: You, the reader, are a grad-school bound student trying to make your mark in the world. The best way to start is with a thesis including interviews with none other than the elite team from the BAU. But your snooping gets you entangled with a situation of the romantic kind. Will you chance it on an older man, or play it safe with someone your age?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all! This is my first Criminal Minds fan-fic, as well as the first in a series of readerxcharacter stories that will transcend through fandoms and genres. If you have any requests or suggestions for stories, please feel free to let me know!**

There were gunshots everywhere. They seemed to echo deep in the back of my mind, one beginning again just as the last was dying down to a ringing in my ears. I hadn't been ready for this. I was never ready for this sort of thing. I was a potential grad student for God's sake. And now, I was in too deep.

-One week earlier—

"Thank you for taking the time to see me sir."

"Of course. What exactly is your interest in the BAU?"

I stood in a large office, shuffling from one uncomfortably heeled foot to the other. My skirt seemed suddenly much too short, and I fought the urge to pull it down like a child playing dress-up. I needed to remain calm and professional. After all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

I had been accepted to George Washington University in Washington DC to continue my education. A double major under my belt of psychology and criminal justice with a minor in music was enough, for now, but I wouldn't get anywhere unless I continued to grad school. I watched nervously as the man in the black suit-jacket before me leafed through my papers. Newspaper clippings and hand-written notes littered between 20 page dissertations. All just the beginnings of my thesis.

He looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine expectantly. I blushed, realizing he had asked me a question and I had just stood there like a nervous child. "Oh, r-right. Well, I'm beginning a thesis on the long-term effects of working in law enforcement on a person socially, physically, and mentally. I was…well, this is one of the most notorious and highly sought-after jobs for newly graduated young people. You have a rather high turnover rate."

A flicker of a smile briefly grazed his lips, and I felt my heart lurch. Had I spoken out of line? "N-no offense meant of course…" I mumbled, quickly averting my gaze to the papers in his hand.

"You've done your research." His tone suggested his statement was a compliment, although any trace of the ghost of a smile from earlier had vanished as quickly as it had come. "But you must understand that we're very busy. I can't have anyone on my team distracted."

My hands immediately raised themselves in apologetic defense. "Yes! Yes, I understand that completely. This would be completely secondary to their work, I can guarantee that. It would just be a series of interviews conducted in-home or in the office…wherever the subject is most comfortable. I would love to stay in office to see your process as well, but I understand that may not be doable." I began to fiddle nervously with the ring on my right hand. "I just think it's important to know what people are getting themselves into. You know, a worst case scenario in this line of work."

The team watched, intrigued from the moment the young lady had stepped into Hotch's office. "She's young. Probably around your age Reid," Emily commented.

"Ah, maybe a little younger," Reid corrected. "She dropped some papers on her way in and I helped her pick them up. It looks like the workings of a final thesis for grad school."

"Notice anything else interesting about her Einstein?" Morgan pointed to his left ring-finger and grinned. "Single, as far as we can tell."

Emily laughed. "Please, you're gonna get with a college girl? Are you that desperate?"

"Desperate my ass. She was a cutie." Morgan's eyes drifted back to the window of their boss's office, as if to emphasize his point. "You think Hotch is givin' her the moves right now?"

Emily snorted, swatting Morgan on the arm. "Gross. Knock it off."

"What? You don't think Hotch needs a PYT in his life?"

Derek Morgan was met with blank stares. "You're kidding me. Reid, back me up here."

Reid frowned. "PYT, possibly referring to the Michael Jackson song and abbreviation meaning 'Pretty Young Thing'."

Prentiss rolled her eyes. "Oh god."

"That's a classic, man, come on."

I stepped out of the office, following the man into the glaring florescent lights of the open floor. People went between desks, shuffling papers and making phone calls. I felt three pairs of eyes on me as I descended the stairs. "Miss Robinson," he gestured to the three seated at the table. "Meet one half of my team. SSA Emily Prentiss, SSA Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid."

"Aaaand the ever-fabulous Penelope Garcia!" Another presence entered, followed by an older man. The blonde, bespectacled woman motioned to her escort in a perky manner. "And David Rossi, of course."

I couldn't help myself. I could physically feel my eyes widen, filled, I'm sure, with absolute adoration. "Oh- oh my god. Mister Rossi, I've read all…_all _of your books. You're the reason I'm starting this thesis."

Rossi smiled gently and shook my hand. "Always a pleasure to meet a fan. Especially one with an inquisitive mind. What exactly inspired this 'thesis'?"

I briefly explained the purpose of my paper, just as I had done for Hotchner earlier. I gauged the interest of each agent, trying to pick who would be my best bet as a subject. What reflected back to me was disheartening. They had seen it all, been there, done that. They weren't about to open up to some stranger, a college student, a nobody.

"There's only one thing," I turned my gaze back to Rossi as I finished, and he returned my gaze, his interest piqued. "You believe in true, absolute evil, don't you Mr. Rossi?"

He answered only with a slow nod, and I continued. "I believe that sort of outlook is a product of a job like this. And I believe it's contagious."

"And that's a problem?" I could tell Rossi was goading me, playing devil's advocate if you will. The weight of six pairs of eyes on me suddenly felt increased. I could feel my face beginning to burn.

"I…I believe so yes. But that's what my research is going to prove, one way or another."

"So you don't believe in true evil, then?" This time I couldn't return Rossi's gaze. But I could answer his question.

"No, I don't. I believe everyone has good in them. But the wrong circumstances can make it hard to find."

Rossi smiled, surprising me a bit. "I give you my blessing on your quest for knowledge. I sincerely hope you can prove me wrong." He patted me on the shoulder before leaving for what I assumed was his own office. I could still feel where he had patted me on the shoulder. This, I thought, was what crazed fans meant when they said things like "I'll never wash this hand again." The $7 blazer I had bought at a flea market was now a treasure, touched by the great David Rossi.

"This is Kate Robinson. She'll be interviewing some of you when you're available for the next week." As if nothing had just transpired, Hotchner formally introduced me to the team. "Anyone who would like to volunteer to go first can begin-"

He was interrupted by a thin, blonde woman approaching the team with a sense of urgency. "I'm calling a meeting. Wrap up whatever you need to wrap up and let's get moving." She only offered me a sideways glance before she turned on her heel to leave again. After her brief announcement, everyone began to move to leave.

"Sorry baby girl, duty calls," Morgan winked before following the others, leaving only myself and Agent Hotchner.

He sighed, and I suddenly realized what a burden I was in this office. "I'm so sorry, I'll go now. I can come back another time and-"

"Here." A piece of paper was suddenly being handed to me, and I took it. "I should be home around 8:30 tonight, provided things don't get complicated here. I can be your first interview for the sake of time."

"Oh…" I looked down at the paper. An address and a phone number scrawled down in blue pen stared back up at me. I looked up to find Agent Hotchner's eyes on me. "Th-thank you."

He nodded, then left to join the others, leaving me to find my own way out of the building.

8:45 pm, and I ran from the bus stop toward the apartment building. Stupidly, I had fallen asleep once I got home. _He said around 8:30. He gave me some leeway. Probably because he knows I'm still just a student…_ I felt a smile growing on my face, but I bit it back. _Agent Hotchner may look scary but…it could be he's actually really nice._

I was buzzed in through the intercom system up front, and climbed two flights of stairs to his apartment. I knocked timidly at first, then with a little more vigor after no answer.

"It's open," a deep voice resonated from behind the closed door. I tentatively opened the door. The scene inside was what I expected. Sparely decorated, yet tasteful. Liveable, but not exactly lived-in yet. This apartment still felt new. Agent Hotchner was seated on a leather sofa, a drink in his hand. Two matching leather arm chairs sat across from a glass coffee-table, and I hesitantly took a seat in one of them. Without speaking, or even looking at him, I began to unpack my supplies. Tape recorder, pad of paper, pen, notecards littered with my almost unreadable handwriting. When I finally had everything in place, I looked up, my hands shaking and my breath uneven.

He was smiling again.

It was the tail end of a smile, just like the one I had seen before, and it seemed to give my heart a jump-start. "Would you like a drink?"

"I really shouldn't…" I clasped my hands in my lap, trying to hide how nervous I was. "It's my first interview with a real FBI agent." I couldn't look up at him again, but I was almost positive he was smiling again.

"It's fine. I've got some amaretto left over. You can take it with you if you like." He stood, and I watched him walk further into the room where a liquor cabinet stood. I knew better than to let a man make me a drink without seeing what was in it, so I watched closely as he poured. Liquor, ice…ok, he was coming back. So he wasn't going to drug me. That at least was a good sign.

He set down a glass of amber-colored liquid on the table in front of me before sitting back down. "Um, Agent Hotchner-"

"Hotch is fine."

I could only nod. I pressed the red button on my tape recorder, ready to start. "Hotch, how did you find yourself drawn to the BAU?"

A second drink sat on the table for each of us, now tepid and watery. I was sure I had at least two hours of tape already. I had started some notes, but within the first half hour I was just engaged. Realizing how late it was, Hotch had excused himself briefly to put his suit jacket away. While he was gone I stood to stretch my legs. A framed photograph caught my eye, and I wandered toward the mantle to take a closer look.

Hearing Hotch return, I turned to face him. "Your son?" I motioned to the photo.

Hotch sat, suddenly looking very tired. "Yes. His name's Jack. He'll be five in October." He motioned to the empty apartment, sans the two of us. "He's staying with his aunt right now."

He knew what I wanted to ask next, but I bit my tongue. There were no pictures of any woman who could have been the mother, or wife. I merely sat back down the turned the tape recorder off. "We can stop for now. It's late, I don't want to bother you any more than I already have."

Hotch's eyes met mine, and I felt frozen to my seat. "Don't you want to know what happened?"

I shook my head slowly, never losing eye-contact. "No. That's not my place to ask."

Hotch nodded, finally breaking his spell-binding, intimidating gaze. As he looked away, I felt a slight pang in my chest. He was hurting, I could tell. It didn't take a psychology major to know when someone has lost something dear to them. Instinctively I reached out and placed my hand on top of his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up anything you weren't ready to talk about."

"She died." My hand squeezed his just as his words compressed on my heart. I couldn't tear my eyes off of him. I opened my mouth to tell him _you don't have to_, but he continued. "It was my fault. A serial killer was loose, and I could have made a deal to stop the killings. I didn't. I was stubborn. I was focused on my work and it cost me my family."

I couldn't say anything at first. I could only continue to stare at him, my hand still tightly holding his. This was the most emotion I had ever seen from this man. Although his face remained the same, distant and cold, his voice gave it all away. He began to pull his hand away, and I grasped his with both of mine, startling him.

"It wasn't your fault."

His eyes met mine again, and a hot flash of an unfamiliar feeling suddenly ripped through me. I could feel my face burning, but I couldn't shut my mouth. "It wasn't your fault. The man…the person who took your wife from you made a choice. He had lost the good in himself, and instead of trying to find it, he took good away from others." I tightened my grip on his hand, my gaze steady but my voice wavering. "You did the right thing. I know it."

Hotch abruptly pulled his hand out from mine and stood, walking back toward the liquor cabinet. "Ex." He mumbled.

"Huh?"

"She was my ex wife at the time."

"Oh…" I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with that information. "I…I'm sorry. That was out of line."

Hotch said nothing. He only poured himself a fresh drink, forgetting completely about his discarded glass from hours before. I felt a blush spread over my cheeks. Oh god, I must have looked so foolish. Here I was, some kid he hardly knew giving him lectures on morality and blame. I began to hastily gather my things from the table, putting the tape recorder back in my bag and frantically trying to gather up my hand-written notes. "A-anyway, thank you so much for your time. I really appreciate any- Ah!" I involuntarily made a soft noise of surprise as Hotch sat down next to me. He was close. He was close! I could actually feel how close he was, the fabric of his pant-leg just barely touching my skirt draped over my thighs. "I…" I didn't know what to ask, so I just looked at him.

"Did you want to try some? It's whisky." I felt my brow furrow at his question. I had been ready to be out of his hair, at least until I could go back to the BAU for my next interview, but it seemed he had other plans.

"Oh…okay." I felt my fingers begin to knead and twist at the hem of my skirt. I suddenly felt very exposed.

"Here." Hotch took a sip of his drink. Before I realized what was happening, his lips were on mine. Surprised, my mouth opened and the cool liquid poured in. His tongue tentatively explored my mouth, and I felt that hot flash rip through my body again. What was this? Was I dreaming? Had I fallen asleep on the couch and I didn't know it?

He pulled away and looked me up and down. I could feel the heat spreading quickly from my cheeks to my ears and through my body. _Oh my god._ _What am I doing? What- _I stood up, my papers dropping and fanning out on the floor. "I…I should really be going!" I broke into a full run for the door, racing through the hallway and down the stairs, out into the brisk night air. I stopped, leaning against the wall of his apartment building to catch my breath and try to steady myself again. My face was still burning, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. Tentatively, I brought a hand to my lips. "It's…hot…" I whispered, unsure if I meant the strong alcohol I had just drunk, or something entirely different.

Hotch was alone now, looking into the unlit fireplace. His lips were still warm from earlier. Even where she had just been sitting seemed to radiate her warm aura.

_You did the right thing. I know it._

He would have easily dismissed it as a half-hearted attempt at consolation, but he knew better. Her gaze had been so intense, so sincere. It was as if she had looked right through him, into the depths of his mind. Even possibly his soul. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and sighed. He knew it had been foolish. His eyes fell upon the papers littering the floor of his apartment. He would gather them up tomorrow and return them to her, of course.

_It wasn't your fault._

How could she know that? She didn't know anything about him. She couldn't… He scooped up one of the papers that had found its way onto the table in her hurry to leave and glanced over what she had written. As he came to the last line written on the page, he felt his heart lurch suddenly. Without another word, he set the paper back down where it was and left the room.

_Agent Aaron Hotchner, while keeping himself aloof from those around him-_

Quietly, he undressed, his mind repeating the phrase he had just read over and over again. The image of her earnest gaze and the feel of her lips against his mixing themselves in with his churning thoughts.

_-I believe, is above all else, a good and honest man. _


	2. Chapter 2

For the second time in my life, the next morning I woke up late. Bleary-eyed, I checked the clock. 10:00am. _Ugh. _I covered my head with the blanket and closed my eyes again. I had agreed to come at 8 in case the BAU was called away on a case. They were sure to be gone by now. Still…it would look unprofessional if I didn't show up at all. Agent Hotchner would probably-

My eyes shot open and I kicked the covers frantically off of my bed. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" I covered my burning face with my hands, sitting up on my knees. The events of last night replayed over and over and over again in my head. The feel of his big, warm hand in mind, his eyes looking right into mine, the-

_Did you want to try some?_

I didn't think it was possible, but my face burned even hotter and the memory. I still couldn't seem to wrap my head around it. Maybe because it had been so sudden… although we had talked for hours into the night. It was all for my research of course but, I suppose-

_It wasn't your fault!_

Oh God, and then I had gotten all sappy. All that hand holding and intense eye contact…what was I thinking? I needed to go back, at least to clear things up. Well… if anything needed to be cleared up. Did it? "Uugh," I groaned before hopping out of bed to get dressed. I had to get these interviews and complete my thesis!

By 10:57 I rushed through the glass doors toward the BAU. I didn't see anyone familiar yet. My heart sank as I realized I was too late. They were probably long gone by now. With a heavy sigh, I stopped to glance up at Hotch's office. The lights were off, just as I had thought. I felt my heart thump a little faster, and I couldn't help but frown. _Stupid…why am I being so stupid about this?_

A tap on my shoulder startled me out of my thoughts. "Oh!" I turned to face a slightly familiar tentative smile.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." The young man was lanky and tall, hair falling to his shoulders and parted so it stayed out of his face. An earnest face really, if I had to make any guesses about him. But for the life of me, his name escaped me.

"You're Kate Robinson, right? The one writing the thesis?"

"Um…" Oh God. Just when I thought I couldn't get stupider… "Y-yeah. I'm here for some interviews is all." Ok, so he was definitely part of the BAU. I remembered seeing him in our initial meeting yesterday. "I guess…if you're available, maybe-"

"Sure!" He seemed enthusiastic about it, and I couldn't help but smile. "There's a couple of conference rooms that won't be in use for a couple hours." His offered me a more subdued grin before giving me his hand, "Spencer Reid."

I put my free hand on my burning face. "You-!" I choked back my denial. He was a profiler, after all, just like the rest of them. I shook his hand meekly. "God, I'm so sorry. There's just a lot going on and maybe I'm a little over my head."

He smiled reassuringly. "It's alright. I guess it's kind of a good thing."

I didn't ask. I let him lead the way, doing a little studying as we went along. Definitely the youngest on the team, probably underestimated more than anyone else on the team. Though, by what little I had seen of his interactions with his team mates, not by them. More likely by bystanders and suspects above all else. And yet, something about him seemed nervous, maybe even damaged. I guess I would find out.

2:30 rolled around, and I was completely entranced. Doctor Spencer Reid may have been an under-nourished looking twenty something on the outside, but inside was something you would pick up in the autobiography section at Barnes and Noble without hesitation. I turned off the tape recorder and leaned back in my chair, trying to soak it all in.

"Sorry…"

I looked up, confused. "For what? That was so…informative! I don't think I've ever learned this much in one day before."

Doctor Reid let out a nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "I- I just know it's not the most, uh, pleasant stuff to talk about. So, I'm sorry you had to sit through that."

"Hey." He looked a bit startled at my suddenly serious tone. I couldn't help it. It was like the words just came tumbling out of my mouth. "It's ok. Really."

I held his gaze for a moment. It was like something inside me couldn't stand to see him thinking so much of me. The feeling was almost overwhelming. I smiled, trying to shake it off and stood, beginning to gather my notes back into my bag. "Thanks a lot for this, by the way. I'll have to send the BAU a gift basket or something." It came out wrong. My words were tripping over themselves trying to get out of my mouth. "I'll…I'll see you later."

I ducked out of the conference room, leaving Doctor Reid alone.

He watched her leave, the door clicking softly shut behind her. There was something….something Doctor Reid didn't think he fully grasped. This, of course, was a rare feeling for him. It wasn't anything she had really done, or said, he supposed. It was more…it was in her eyes. She just seemed so…it wasn't sad. Or pitying. It was just warmth. It was a deep caring and understanding that he had not yet encountered. At least, not that he recalled currently.

Reid absentmindedly chewed his lip, staring at the door where she had disappeared. The thought that she may have been the first person to look at him like that, like a person, and not a walking basket-case with a PhD, made him strangely sad.

He tucked the thought away and left the conference room.

God, I knew he must have thought I was an idiot. If I didn't get a grip soon I was going to be escorted out of the building for suspicious behavior. I had no idea what the hell was wrong with me. I was probably still riled up from last night.

_Speak of the Devil…_ I felt my heart kick into high gear as Hotch entered through the main doors with Morgan following close behind. They seemed to be talking about something important. Suddenly feeling shy, I lowered my gaze and made a beeline for the door. I would go home, transcribe my notes and the recording and come back to it tomorrow so everything would-

"Miss Sawyer?"

It took every muscle in my body to not jump out of my skin. I turned around and exhaled slowly, trying to get a hold of myself. "Um, yeah?"

Hotch motioned for me to come over, and I complied. "Why don't you interview Morgan tomorrow. He's got a lot of paperwork to catch up on."

"Oh…sure."

He nodded. "Alright. Why don't you go up to my office? I'll meet you up there. We'll just need to make sure we have a conference room open and we'll schedule some time."

With a nod I quickly moved toward the stairs and up to the office. My heart was no longer racing, but pounding in my ears. I sat in one of the stiff leather chairs facing his empty desk. Quietly, I began to wonder what I would say to him once he sat down.

_I respect you and your team very much and I'm really grateful to you for this opportunity. I don't know what happened last night, but-_

Oh I knew what happened last night. I could remember every single little detail. Back up, try that again.

_Okay, last night._

That was better. At least now I wasn't lying.

_That was…something else._

Really. That was the best I could do short of feigning ignorance. Now slightly panicking, I watched his form start to move up the steps and toward the door. It was crunch time. I had to just let whatever I was going to say be said and improvise.

The door opened. Hotch stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Not saying anything, not even looking at me, he walked to his desk and sat down. As he looked down on me, I suddenly felt very small. I tentatively opened my mouth to speak.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. It was unprofessional and an invasion of your personal space."

He beat me to it! I couldn't say anything, I just sat there like a stone. He looked at me for a moment, waiting for a response I'm sure. When I answered again with my eloquent blank stare, he went to work scheduling for tomorrow. "Ok. So we'll put you two in conference room delta at around noon. Will that be alright?"

When I was still silent, he looked back up. I nodded quickly, finally letting go of a breathe I didn't recall holding. Clutching my bag, I stood and made for the door. My hand closed around the handle, and yet I paused. I felt my face begin to warm, and a small smile had formed across my lips. I turned back to him and caught his gaze again. He had been watching me go. A moment passed, and I opened my mouth again to speak.

He had felt terrible. He'd had no way to contact her to apologize or anything. He hadn't been thinking clearly. It had been a stupid thing to do, and he knew it. He made his amends, hoping it would stave off any potential awkwardness. Instead, it seemed it had made it worse. She didn't say a word. She barely even looked at him. Despite it all, he felt an ice cold stab as she got up to leave. She paused, and the ice spread into the back of his throat as they locked eyes. Now she would let him have it, of course.

"Y…you don't…"

Hotch frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You don't…you don't have to apologize for stuff like that." She was smiling. He hadn't noticed it until now, but she was smiling. She seemed a little pink, which made that smile somehow seem irresistible, like a magnet. He could feel his pulse speed up just looking at her.

Her hand slid off the handle, and she turned completely to face him, her back pressed up against the door. The ice in his chest had melted and was searing hot, throbbing with adrenaline. _This is…_ He felt paralyzed by that look. This was backward. This wasn't how these things were supposed to go. It was court the girl, take her to dinner, wait a few weeks and dive in. But he had started on a slippery slope, and she was pushing him. It was all that talk…opening up to someone like that- _especially when that someone was beautiful and smelled like vanilla and lavender and had hair that looked like it felt like silk my god- _was an intimate thing to do. Intimate secrets like that…well, he wasn't even sure he had ever told his late wife some of those things. Maybe he had just been out of the game too long. Maybe this was how everyone did it.

Finally, he stood up. She didn't take her eyes off him as he approached. Reaching over her, he quietly closed the blinds (after ensuring no one was in sight). His other hand rested squarely on the wall above her shoulder. What little space left between them finally closed and became non-existent.

The minute his lips met mine again, I felt weak. I struggled to keep myself standing, and both my hands clutched at his jacket. This pulled us even closer, and the kiss intensified. I felt myself growing hot. Was it even possible to get any hotter than this? The kiss broke. Without hesitation, Hotch buried his face into the nape of my neck, and I tried to suppress the sound that had been threatening to come out of me. I felt his breath in my ear, his arms wrapping around me, all tantalizing me, pushing me further and further. My hands shakily climbed from his jacket to his shoulders, and I pushed back slightly. He complied and looked me in the eye.

"We should probably go somewhere else." It was as if he had read my mind. But I couldn't help it. It was like…like magic, for lack of a better word.

"We don't have to," my voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "I don't mind."

He pulled away completely, even taking his eyes off me. I frowned. Had I said something wrong.?

"Don't say things like that."

My eyebrows rose. "Why not?"

When he looked back at me, I felt myself flush. He looked like he was barely restraining himself. "If you talk like that, I don't know if I'll be able to hold back."

I felt that smile coming back to my face. I knew the one, as did anyone who had ever been with me intimately. Now that I knew what kind of sway I held over him, it was my game to play. Not taking my eyes off of him, I began to unbutton my blouse. With each button, I came closer to him. Slowly, he sat down in the chair I had just been seated in earlier, having a normal conversation. As soon as he sat, I straddled him. I could feel his length through his trousers, and I felt a rush of heat rip through me. I brought my lips toward his and wrapped my arms around his neck

"Do you still think what you wrote about me is true?"

I only looked back at him blankly. What, was he peeking at my manuscripts at a time like this? "What?"

"'_A good, honest man._' Do you think that's true?"

I thought about it for a moment. Sitting in the lap of a man I had talked to on the phone twice and had only officially met yesterday. I supposed it wasn't the most…honorable looking thing. I wasn't one to be passing judgment on others, especially in my current situation. "It doesn't matter what I think," I concluded. Before he could protest I stifled him with a deep kiss. As I pressed against him, his words became indecipherable mumblings punctuated with low moans. I grinned against his lips. I was having fun. Fun had become a foreign concept to me once I had decided to go for that double major. It became a relic once graduate school called my name. I should have been working. I should have been interviewing and writing and making history with this thesis and instead I was _fraternizing _in an office. A government office, of all things. The thought should have given me anxiety, or at least stopped me, but instead it egged me on.

_Knock knock_

"Shit!" I hissed, nearly falling over backward as Hotch quickly stood. "Shit, shit-" I hastily buttoned my shirt while he straightened his tie and jacket.

Who but David Rossi poked his head through the door, smiling impishly. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your meeting."

"It's perfectly fine. Ms. Sawyer was just leaving." Oh God, Hotch was a lot quicker to regain his composure than me. I could only stand awkwardly with my arms crossed over my chest. Hotch handed me a neat folder heavy with papers from his desk. "Here. You'll want to keep better track of these."

"Oh! Yeah! Haha!" I knew I looked suspicious. My mind was streaming panicked profanities as I took the folder from him and started out the door. "W-well, goodnight! Nice to see you again Mr. Rossi!" Trying my best to remain calm, I walked as casually as possible out of the office, down the steps and toward the doors out of the BAU. Once I thought I was out of both men's sight, I bolted. _Damn, damn DAMN. _What the hell was I thinking? I was getting reckless, and only on my second day. I needed…I needed to…ugh, I didn't even know what I needed to do next! For now, getting home was the main priority.

Both men were completely silent as they watched her go. Hotch stole a glance at Rossi. He looked…amused. That was never a good sign. "Did you need something Dave?"

"Hm?" Rossi seemed to peel himself from his thoughts as he returned his friend's gaze. "Oh, no, no. I just wanted to make sure you weren't doing anything you would regret later."

Protesting would make it worse. It was better to put up a wall and try to remain void of any verbal or physical cues that would give him away. "I don't know what you mean." Well, maybe denial wasn't so bad after all. Feign ignorance and avoid any consequence to his actions for now.

Rossi patted him on the shoulder before walking out the door, motioning for Hotch to follow suit. "It's late. Why don't we call it a night?" Hotch nodded, and the two left the office, locking up behind them. "Let me give you a little piece of advice I got from my third wife," he chided, although he still had a ghost of a smile on his face. "She told me, '_You can always look, but you can't touch. When you touch, there will be hell to pay_'."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! I just wanted to address a couple questions before we get started on chapter 3. Hoove-print-on-your-heart mentioned that Hotch seems a little out of character so far. You're correct! I personally don't think Hotch's grieving period for Haley was very…well, realistic in the show. In reality, grief makes you lonely. It makes you forget who you are. And when two **_**very **_**lonely people come together, it tends to be a bit of a mess (from my experience, anyway). Also, side-note, I kept adding page breaks for changing tenses, and only just now figured out they were not working. I feel old and useless but I figured it out!**

"Kate!"

I must have jumped a foot in the air, because I was met with laughter. "Wow, sorry! Didn't mean to scare you like that." Penelope Garcia grinned at me from behind stylish frames, and I tried my best to return it. "Reid said you were kinda jumpy."

I frowned. "He said that?"

Like the maddening Cheshire Cat to this Wonderland I seemed to be stuck in, her grin widened even more, and she emitted a high-pitched giggle followed by a snort. "Don't look so crushed. He likes you." Suddenly, her mouth dropped open and she gasped. "You should come with us for drinks! There's this bar down the street that has amazing margaritas."

"I really shouldn't…" The last thing I needed was to get drunk and vulnerable around the colleagues and friends of the man I had just essentially attempted to seduce inside the offices of the B.A.U. My protest fell on deaf ears. Garcia tugged on my hand, leading me down the block as she chattered away. Well, one drink wouldn't kill me.

10:30 rolled around, and the only ones left of our party were Garcia, Morgan and myself. My eyelids were heavy, and I could feel my face burning against my palm as I leaned over three empty glasses. Morgan and Garcia were laughing about some kind of inside joke. Looking down into the depths of the syrupy remains of my last drink, I let my mind wander back to the events earlier that evening. It was a close call. I deserved it though. I was being reckless and stupid. But it felt good. I felt a fire inside me I hadn't felt in years. I replayed the look on his face when I was on top of him a couple of times, a sleepy, stupid smile spreading onto my lips.

"A little blissed out over there?" Morgan's baritone snapped me out of my memories. Cat-like reflexes kicking in, my elbow swung into two of the glasses and sent them shattering to the floor. I now had the attention of the entire bar.

"Balls." It just came out, startling Morgan into peals of laughter while Garcia stared at me in shock. I averted my gaze to the mess I had created, ashamed and somehow also impressed at how incredibly inept I was at even the smallest things. "S-sorry about…about that."

Garcia put a hand to my forehead. "Oh honey, you're burning up! And your face is bright red!"

"Come on, I'm laughing with you not at you," Morgan assured me. "I just, ha, ha! I didn't think you would curse like that!"

I waved my hand, brushing him off. "My mother's from Chicago. It's hereditary."

Morgan's perfect eyebrows rose. "Really? Me too. Chicago born and raised."

"Oh, I was born there, but then we moved out to bum-fuck nowhere, Wisconsin." Morgan inhaled the drink he had brought to his mouth, sending him into a coughing/laughing fit. Now that they had heard it once, the filter was off. "I was dying to get out of there."

"So you chose D.C. for school and work. Pretty smart move," Garcia replied. "What made you get into criminal psychology?"

I held back a groan and tried to think. Did I give them the whole _I've wanted this since I could read_ bullshit, or the truth? I glanced at our waitress begrudgingly sweeping up broken glass, and then back at Garcia. "I used to be a theater major." There, I said it. "I thought I was going to be on Broadway."

"There's no shame in that," Morgan said.

"There's lots of shame in that!" I insisted. "My family was so embarrassed. They're doctors and lawyers and working for NASA. NASA! Like the spaceships! And I wanted to sing show-tunes and tap dance."

"How did you get from that, to psychopaths and serial killers?"

"I got really depressed, drank, did a lot of drugs, and flunked out." I didn't look up, but I could feel the sympathy and well-meaning on their faces. It was borderline nauseating. "Then I got one more shot from my parents, so I took the most interesting thing I could find that was vaguely scientific."

Garcia took my hand into both of hers suddenly, startling me enough to look her in the eye again. "Don't you miss it?" she asked earnestly. I could only nod, earning myself another bout of pitying looks. "This is D.C.! There's theater and art here too! It's no New York but there are some pretty good companies."

"Yeah," Morgan chimed in, gently easing Garcia's hands away from me. "Who says you can't do what you love while you work?"

I let out a dry laugh. "The people paying for my schooling say so." I tried to give them a reassuring smile. "I'm fine though. This degree will get me a great job that my family can be proud of." I could see Garcia reaching for my hand again out of the corner of my eye, and I gently pulled my hands into my lap. "Anyway, I don't like talking about myself. And I should probably get home. It's late."

As I moved to leave, a voice rang out across the bar. "Kate!"

Oh God. I tried to place a face to the voice, but in my tipsy state everything was starting to blur together.

"Kate! I thought that was you." A tanned and freckled million-dollar smile broke through the crowd toward us. "Oh, are these your friends?"

"Y-yeah…" I realized some introductions were probably in order. "This is Derrick Morgan and Penelope Garcia. Guys, this is Nick Davis. We uh-"

"We act together," Nick flashed them a grin as I felt my stomach sink. "You've probably seen the flyers for our show at the Greens. _The Last Five Years_?"

"Yeah, I have," Garcia glanced at me, searching for an answer. "Well, it was very nice to meet you but we should get going. It's very late."

"Sure, of course." Nick nodded sympathetically before turning back to me. "See you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah," I replied with an uncomfortable wave. Before he could try and make any more conversation, I removed myself from my seat and made toward the exit. Garcia stood at almost the same time I did to follow me. There was a brief moment of silence between the two remaining men before Morgan did the same.

Morgan was the first to speak as we moved quickly down the sidewalk. "So, were you gonna tell anyone you-"

"Shush!" Garcia whirled around on him, then turned back to me. "Did you want anyone with the B.A.U. to know about your show?" I shook my head. Garcia sighed before going back to Morgan. "You are forbidden to tell anyone about anything that handsome man in the bar told us about Kate."

"Garcia, that's-"

"I forbid it! It is forbidden!" She cut him off with a little stomp of her foot. I felt a weight fall off my shoulders that I hadn't even realized was there. The two of them bickered for a bit before Garcia shooed him away. "We need some girl time now. Go call one of those nice blonde girls that gave you their numbers." Morgan only chuckled before walking back to hail a cab. I attempted a silent escape but Garcia caught me by my sleeve. "Ah ah ah! I wasn't kidding about the girl time thing!"

"Penelope, it was really nice of you to take me out but I really need to get home," I pleaded.

"I just have a question. One question! And then I promise you can go do whatever you want and I'll leave you alone."

I put my hands up in defeat. "Ok, ok. Alright. What is it?"

"Two words: boy troubles."

"What?"

"Boy troubles. You've got them, don't you?"

"I don't."

At this, Garcia rolled her eyes. "Please, you've got that look. You made a mistake, he made some mistakes and now you're wondering what you're really doing?"

"Wow." I stared at her, completely at a loss for words. "That…that is incredible. Is that a profiler thing? Did you just profile me?"

"No, no, I'm not technically a profiler." Garcia shook her head. "I just know that look. I used to have one over a different boy every week. So," she leaned in for a little more privacy. "Who is he?"

I felt my heart leap into my throat. "Y-you only got one question Garcia! Now I'm going home! Goodnight!"

"Whaaaat?!" she whined, chasing after me as I pulled away. "Come on, I won't tell anyone!"

"It's no one. There's no one."

"Ok! Ok! You don't have to tell me," she finally gave. Now I felt obligated to stop. "Just…The mother hen in me tells you to be careful, but the sexpot in me is telling you to go for it. Can you compromise and do both for me? Please? Pretty please?"

"I… I'll try."

"How did you meet him? You haven't been here very long, what's your secret?" Now she was getting ramped up. I sighed and checked my phone. I guess maybe I had a little more time than I thought.

"Look…maybe we should go back and get another drink? It's kind of a long….well, a complicated story." Garcia squealed in delight, clapping her hands before taking both of mine to drag me toward a restaurant nearby. "B-but I'm not making you any promises! And I should be home in a couple hours."

Garcia waved my hesitation away. "One glass of wine, you spill the beans to me, I give you amazing advice and we go our separate ways. Promise!" she insisted.

One glass of wine was only the beginning, however. Three glasses in, we were leaned in across the table toward each other, talking in low voices. Garcia had given me a little about her past boyfriends to warm up before delving into my own personal details. I was starting to mix words together, and I kept knocking my fork on the ground, but I had to admit I was having a good time.

"So it's been moving pretty fast, huh?" Garcia brought my attention back to our conversation. I nodded, trying to recall exactly what we were talking about. "And he's _how _much older than you?"

I snorted with self-deprecating laughter. "I dunno. He's not like an old person! He's just…uh, he's older than me. Like notably."

"You're ok with that?"

I waved my hand, nearly knocking two of the glasses over. "Hell yeah. I like…I like that kinda stuff. Promise. Pinky promise." I held out my pinky, and Garcia reciprocated. Damn, I was dizzy. It didn't seem to be affecting Garcia at all, but I supposed she drank a bit less than me earlier in the night.

"Well be careful," she cautioned. "Sounds like you two are projecting some pent-up stuff on each other. It could get unhealthy."

"Shhhh," I put a finger to her lips, earning me a look of confusion boarder-lining on disgust. "Sorry. Lissen. I'm _not _even going to sleep with him. Like ever. So you don' have to worry about it, ok?"

"Oookay, it's time to get you home."

"And another thing-" I continued babbling as she pulled me up and toward the door. "I totally lied to you earlier. He's not older than me and I didn't meet him at the F.B.I. I didn't. I lied to you and you should forget anything I said earlier and everything I'm saying now!" Now it was Garcia's turn to shush me. "I'm gonna take the bus, ok?"

That's the last clear memory I have of the night.

* * *

The phone ringing startled Aaron Hotchner out of a blissfully dreamless dream. Digital number seared 3:00 AM into his retinas, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly again. Slowly, he counted backward from ten. _9…8…7…6…5…-_

_Ring Ring_

He exhaled, bringing the phone up expecting to see a call coming from the Bureau. '_Front door…?'_ he thought. He quickly threw on a pair of pants and tucked his gun into the waistband. As he came to the bottom of the stairs, he wasn't sure how to react.

There she was, head leaned against the glass pane in the door, her breath fogging up the glass. He hesitated a moment, then gently tapped on the glass. She startled awake before sleepily gazing up at him. She smiled and waved. He sighed and opened the door.

"Miss Sawyer, is there a problem?"

"Huh?" Her smile quickly fell into a confused frown. "Oh… well Penelope put me on the bus to go home, but I could only remember my old address back in Chicago, and then I was trying to get on the L-train, and then I just used the address in my coat pocket, but I ended up here." She pointed to the call-box on the wall. "Your name's not on the thing but I remembered your apartment number."

Hotch momentarily closed his eyes. Maybe he was dreaming, and when he woke up this wouldn't be happening to him. He opened his eyes. No, she was still there. Gently, he reached out and guided her inside, closing the door behind them. "Don't touch me," Kate mumbled, swatted half-heartedly at his hand. "Stupid idiot."

"Alright. Follow me. You can sleep on the couch for the night."

She stopped in mid-step. He had to suppress a groan as he turned to see what the problem was now. Her eyes were closed, and one hand was held toward him.

"Hold my hand. My eyes are tired."

"I thought you didn't want me to touch you."

"Do it or I'll lay down on the floor." He didn't move, and she bent her knees, never lowering her hand. "Here I go to sleep on the floor like I'm homeless."

"Stop that. Here," his hand easily enveloped hers, and he caught a glimpse of her grinning before he turned to lead them down the hall and back up the stairs. She bumped into his back as he stopped in front of his apartment.

"You brought your gun to the door?" She almost sounded hurt. Ignoring her for the moment, he let her inside. "I guess you get kind of paranoid when you chase crazy killers around every day." She sank down onto the couch, kicked off her heels and tucked her feet underneath her.

"I'll get you a blanket," he moved toward the hall closet.

"No, I'm not tired."

"It's three in the morning," he countered, trying to keep himself calm. This was proving to be more difficult than dealing with his own son at bedtime.

Kate shifted on the couch, looking tired but clearly fighting it. She motioned for him to come closer. He hesitantly obliged. She tugged on his arm, and he sat down next to her. She had been leaning her head on the arm of the couch, but now she shifted again, her head resting on his lap and her knees tucked up to her chest. He felt heat rush to his face, but tried to remain composed. She was drunk after all, and he was sure he was partially to blame for that. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to the past two days. He had only known her for such a short time, and yet here they were, cuddled up like they had known each other forever. _'She's not herself,_' he reminded himself. '_She's going to wake up tomorrow and be terribly embarrassed.' _Still…he couldn't help but feel glad he was there to protect her. If she hadn't ended up at his door God only knew what kind of trouble she would have gotten into. Absently, his hand moved to her head and he softly stroked her hair.

"M' not tired…" Even half asleep she was fighting tooth and nail. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. When she wasn't trying to seduce him in his own office, she was cute. "I saw that." She turned onto her back so she could look up at him.

"Saw what?"

"You smiled. I saw it." Kate was smiling now too. She reached up and lightly brushed her knuckles against his chin. "I'm telling everyone that I made you smile."

"You're not even going to remember this tomorrow," he replied honestly. He helped her into a sitting position, and she sat up onto her knees facing him.

"Yeah?" She looked him in the eye as if she were studying him. Hotch resisted the urge to look away and held her gaze. "Then kiss me."

"Not a chance." He wasn't falling for that. Well, not again anyway.

"I want you to. I know you want to," she said. "You did earlier anyway."

He sighed, leaning back into the couch. "I did." He couldn't lie about that.

"So do it again."

"You're drunk, Kate. You couldn't even find your own house."

She pouted. "Now you're just picking on me."

"You know, most girls aren't so forward after only knowing someone for a couple days." She only continued to pout. "They also don't drunkenly stumble into the apartment of the man who allowed them such a rare opportunity with the Bureau."

Her pout changed to an overdramatic look of offense. "Are you threatening me?"

"No," he answered quickly. "I'm just saying you should be more careful. You're going to get yourself in trouble."

She contemplated his advice for a moment, then seemed to disregard it. "I'll consider that next time." Kate moved her legs over his lap, simultaneously trapping him on the couch while making herself more comfortable. She looked him over, her free hand resting gently on her lips as if she were lost in thought. He wished she would just go to sleep. "Have you been with anyone since your wife died?" Hotch could only shake his head. He could give her some leniency for being inebriated, but she was starting to push her luck. As if sensing the tension in him, she reached out and took his hand. She gently placed in on her thigh and held it there. "Aren't you lonely? Aren't you tired of coming home to an empty bed every night?" Hotch tried to take his hand away, to get away from her but she held him in place. "You don't have to be alone. You're not alone."

She was doing it again. Giving him that earnest look full of determination and concern and something else he couldn't quite place. Probably the alcohol clouding her judgment and removing her filter. "You're drunk." He wasn't sure if he was reminding her or himself.

"I am. I am very, very drunk. But I also know what it's like to be very, very lonely." She smiled, but it was a wry, sad smile. "Do you think if I didn't I would be this shit-faced?" She squeezed his hand once before withdrawing. He allowed himself the indulgence of the feeling of her skin, even beneath layers of fabric, before taking his hand away. "So kiss me already."

"If I do, do you promise you'll go to sleep?"

This time her smile was warm, almost playful. "Promise."

He leaned in and gently pressed his lips against hers. He could feel her still smiling against him. He pulled away and looked at her expectantly. She had promised.

"Again."

He couldn't help it. That look on her face, it was like some kind of drug. He met his lips with hers again, allowing it to go just a little longer.

"Again."

Her mouth parted a little, and he resisted the urge to slip his tongue inside. One hand had found its way to her cheek, cupping it gently even after he had stopped.

"Again," this time she breathed the word into his mouth, barely even getting the syllables out. He felt her slowly descending back on to the couch, and he followed suit, hovering over her. Each time he tried to pull away, she drew him back in. The feel of her skin, her smell, the silky touch of her hair as it ran through his fingers was overwhelming. He released her mouth to lightly brush across her cheek and down to her neck. He felt a soft moan resonate from her throat and vibrate across her skin.

He pulled away. Any further and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep control of himself. Hotch could see her crestfallen face out of the corner of his eye, and suppressed another wry smile. "Alright, you promised."

Kate sighed before pushing herself off the couch and stumbling forward. Hotch reacted too late as she made her way to the bedroom and curled up on top of the covers. "No! No, damn it." He ran a hand across his face and took a breath. This was fine. This was fine. He would just count backwards from ten. _9…8…7-_

"Come to bed sleepyhead…" even though she was half asleep, she still managed to tease him mercilessly. On his last ounce of self-control and determination, he joined her. He hugged the very edge of the bed with his back to her and stared blankly at the wall. He could hear her breathing softly. The feel of another person, any sort of presence next to him was all at once surreal and comforting. He wondered briefly what it would be like, having someone there every night again. It had been a long, long time. Even before she had been taken from him completely, he had been alone. He had just never known how deep that feeling could cut through him until then.

Maybe it wasn't so crazy after all, her and him, doing this.

That night his sleep was blissfully dreamless for the first time in months.


End file.
